


Three and Oh

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Fic, First Time, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-06
Updated: 2011-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-15 11:30:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Elizabeth, I have a favor to ask. I want your permission to try and talk Peter into having sex. With me, I mean."</p><p>Episode tag for 2.11.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three and Oh

"It's worth it to Adler," said Neal, staring down at Mozzie's bendy-straw fractal. It was hard to imagine a prize worth Kate's and Mozzie's lives, but Vincent Adler had always rated his own whimsies over the welfare of others.

"Then I guess we have to find it first," said Peter, solid and steadfast. Everything that Adler wasn't.

Neal shoved the dangers ahead to one side and leaned back in his chair. He felt better. Maybe it was light-headedness from staying up all night drinking, but the weight he'd been carrying with him for months—perhaps since the day Kate had visited him in prison to say goodbye—had finally lifted. The wound was clean now. It would heal.

The change was such a relief that Neal relaxed his self-control, decided to indulge in a little reckless baiting. When Peter stretched his arms above his head and then reached for his badge with an apologetic tilt to his shoulders, Neal stopped him. "Wait. Before we go back on the record—"

Peter raised his eyebrows. "There's more?"

"Sort of." Neal got up and went to Peter's jacket, slung over the back of the couch. He fished in the pocket and pulled out Peter's phone, then speed dialed Elizabeth. It was too early, but this was a rare opportunity and Neal wasn't going to let social constraints stand in his way. Not anymore.

"Neal?" Peter stood up and tried to grab the phone out of his hand, but Neal staved him off.

After five long rings, Elizabeth answered, sounding still asleep. "Honey, what time is it?"

"Just after five," Neal told her. "And it's Neal. Listen, Elizabeth, I have a favor to ask."

"Hmm?" said Elizabeth, slightly more awake. "What?"

Peter stopped reaching for the phone and put his hands on his hips, gaze narrowing.

Neal met his eye with more self-assurance than he felt. "I want your permission to try and talk Peter into having sex. With me, I mean."

Peter snatched the phone from his hand and glared at him, going red in the face. "What on earth makes you think I'd—"

"Come on, Peter," said Neal, trying for breezy but unable to keep the hope out of his voice. "Give me some credit—you didn't come here just to talk. And I know Elizabeth won't mind. I'm not blind."

Peter spluttered for a moment, his blush deepening, and then held up a stern finger, silently warning Neal to stay, and took the phone out onto the patio. Neal strained to hear Peter's side of the conversation, but aside from a few pithy exclamations, Peter kept his tone low and intense, so Neal cleared the table instead and went to brush his teeth, keeping his metaphorical fingers crossed. Rehashing the past had reminded him how much fun sex could be, and God, it had been long enough. He wanted Peter, despite Elizabeth, despite the FBI and Neal's parole arrangement and Peter already knowing him too damned well. Neal _wanted_ Peter. And he wanted to get laid, and this was hardly the time to draw another innocent party into the catastrophe that was Neal's life. Might as well paint a bull's eye on their back.

Peter was already in it over his head.

Neal came out of the bathroom at the same time Peter came in, phone still to his ear. Peter raised his chin and lowered the phone. His shoulders twitched forward. "You're not just fucking with me?"

"I'm trying to," joked Neal. Given how long Peter and Elizabeth had been talking, he wasn't holding out much hope they'd decide in his favor. Peter was too cautious to take this step if Elizabeth wasn't fully onboard. On the other hand, the fact they were discussing it at all was pretty incredible. If not now, maybe one day soon. "I'm serious, Peter. Really."

Peter shook his head. "I must be out of my mind," he muttered under his breath. He dragged his hand down his face and met Neal's eye frankly. "My wife has three conditions."

Neal's heart thudded. "Only three?" Peter scowled at him, and Neal swallowed a laugh. "Okay," he said. "Three conditions. What are they?"

"One, blowjobs only," said Peter, more matter-of-factly than Neal would have thought possible. "Two, Elizabeth gets to watch. And three, afterwards, she and I avail ourselves of your bed. It's up to you whether you hang around for that part. You still want to do this?"

"Yes," said Neal immediately, turned on now not just at the prospect of having Peter—he'd said _blowjobs_ , said it with _intent_ —but also by Elizabeth's knowing what she wanted and asking for it. He thought about her talking that guy off the phone during the Larsen sting, beautiful and confident as she told him to make love to her, and Neal's stomach clenched. He walked right up to Peter, right into his space, and grabbed his wrist—the pulse thrumming under his fingertips—so he could pull the phone to his own ear. "Yes to all three," he said into the phone, his gaze locked with Peter's, his own skin prickling with awareness. "God, Elizabeth. How soon can you be here?"

"I'll get a cab." There was no trace of sleep in her voice now. "And Neal? Don't start anything till I get there. I mean it."

Peter hung up and stood facing Neal. The air sizzled in the few scant inches between them.

"She'd better hurry," said Neal.

A smile tugged at the corner of Peter's mouth. "You haven't tried to talk me into anything yet. Who knows how long that's going to take."

"Seriously, you're going to play hard to get now? What, you want me to beg?" Neal was actually prepared to consider it, which said a lot about his level of desperation.

But Peter's smile softened, and he shook his head. "I want you to make coffee, and then we have to talk. I know—" He held up his hand to halt Neal's objections. "—you'd rather leap in with both feet, but I've been trained by the best, and I'm not risking our partnership over this. We make sure we both know where we stand."

"And then blowjobs," said Neal, mostly to get a reaction.

It was worth it. Peter's eyes darkened and his gaze slid down Neal's body like some kind of human x-ray scanner. "Yeah."

Peter was tall, loose and fit, and his expression when he looked at Neal was warm and direct. Neal had come to count on that, on Peter's respect and his inherent trustworthiness. Peter was a man who kept his word. An honest man. Maybe it was ironic to find that attractive, but Neal did, along with Peter's keen intelligence, his wry outlook on the world and his big blunt hands. Neal stepped back before lust propelled him forward, and went to make the coffee.

Peter followed, looking thoughtful, and waited while the water boiled.

"You okay there, Butch?" Neal spooned grounds into the French press and cast him a look, part curiosity, part sympathy. "Elizabeth talk you into it?"

Peter leaned back against the counter and shoved his hands in his pockets, surveying the room as it lightened into dawn. "She didn't have to. I've known what I wanted since the first time I arrested you, when you shook my hand and thanked me. I may not be a psychology major, but I know that lime sucker was never just a sucker."

Neal laughed outright. "Well, it's been a while, but I used to be pretty good. I think you'll find it was worth the wait."

Peter rolled his eyes, smiling. "Don't worry, Narcissus, I'm not doubting your prowess. But you haven't done the math."

Neal poured the coffee into mugs and when Peter didn't elaborate, sent him a questioning look.

"Afterward, El and I—" Peter jerked his head toward the bed.

"Yeah, so?" Neal handed him a cup, and then the penny dropped. "Oh. _Oh._ " Peter was going to save himself for Elizabeth. Which meant both he and Elizabeth were going to all this trouble so that Peter could blow _him_. Reciprocation was off the menu.

Peter took his coffee over to the couch and waited while Neal sat down next to him, close but not touching. "I don't make a habit of this kind of thing."

"I know," said Neal. "I mean, I figured."

Peter blew on the surface of his coffee to cool it, and all Neal could see was his mouth, his lips pursed. "So, I need you to tell me what you want. Is this a one-time deal?"

Neal tore his gaze away and stared into his own mug. "Anything more and it gets complicated, right? The anklet, my parole, Elizabeth."

"Yeah," said Peter, "but that's not what I asked. What do you want, Sundance?"

The nickname brought back memories of breaking into Midtown Mutual, sneaking around, trying to catch Edward Walker red-handed. The infamous Caffrey and Burke. Partners. Neal let his knee nudge against Peter's, the deliberate contact like an electric shock. "Not just one time," he said. "I mean, I can't—I'm not ready for serious. I still—"

"Kate," said Peter, taking his hand, stroking his thumb over Neal's knuckles, completely unself-conscious. "I know. I'm not expecting a commitment, here. I just need to know where I stand now. Doesn't mean it can't change."

Neal nodded and looked down at their hands, trying to get it straight in his head. "I want you. It doesn't have to be all the time, and it doesn't have to be love. And I really don't want to hurt Elizabeth. But—I think I need this, with you."

Peter's thumb stilled for a second, then resumed its back and forth path across Neal's hand. "Okay." His voice husky and deep, sending a rush of heat to the base of Neal's spine. "One more condition, then. Full disclosure. You sleep with anyone else, I need to know. I'm not asking for details, I just—"

"Why?" Neal stared at him. This was the same guy who'd acted flustered and outraged when Neal had first mentioned sex a mere half hour ago. It was hard to fathom his being willing to put up with Neal sleeping around. "Would that be the end?"

"I need to keep my feet on the ground," said Peter, seriously. "It would be too easy to—" He shook his head. "What's going on with you and Sara Ellis?"

"Nothing." Neal leaned into Peter a little. "There's nothing going on, not with her or Alex or anyone. It would be too easy to what?"

Peter's phone buzzed, and he answered it, listened and said, "Okay, hon. One second." He hung up and put it on the coffee table. "El's close."

Neal's pulse jumped. This was actually happening. "I'll go." He stood up, then looked down at Peter and raised his eyebrows. Peter had insisted on knowing where Neal was at. It was only fair that he disclose the same. "Too easy to what?"

Peter met his gaze. "To fall for you."

Oh. _Love._ It shouldn't be surprising, given what they were about to do and given what Peter had said about wanting him since that first arrest, but the knowledge settled in Neal's chest like a talisman. Peter might fall in love with him. He was someone Peter could love.

The cab was pulling away from the curb when Neal opened the door. Elizabeth came up the steps toward him. She was in jeans, sneakers and a white button-down cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Her face was free of makeup. She smiled up at him and patted his cheek. "Did you start without me?"

"Didn't dare," he said, grinning. "Come in." He ushered her through the silent house, up to his room where Peter was waiting.

She went straight over to Peter, who was standing by the French doors looking out at the city, and kissed him quickly. "Okay?"

He smiled down at her. "Okay."

And that was apparently permission enough, because Peter was coming toward Neal, desire plain on his face. Neal opened his arms, and then they were chest to chest, embracing, from zero to one hundred and sixty in less than a second. Peter's mouth was hot and demanding, his hands everywhere, and Neal met him, kiss for kiss, heart hammering in his chest, devouring him and being devoured.

Peter groaned, and Neal tore his mouth away to pant up at the ceiling, needing air. Robbed of Neal's kiss, Peter licked a stripe up his neck and nipped his earlobe, making Neal's knees nearly give out, and then Peter caught Neal's hand and drew two fingers into his mouth, sucking on them, making Neal think of lime green suckers and, oh God, blowjobs.

"Peter," he said. "Now. Please."

Peter eased the fingers out and kissed Neal's palm, then his mouth. "Relax, okay? I've got you." The warmth in his eyes was almost more than Neal could bear. Peter guided him back a couple of steps into one of the dining chairs, and dropped to his knees while Neal unfastened his pants, hands shaking in haste, and shoved them and his boxers out of the way.

Peter was peeling off his shirt and undershirt, and Neal wanted to push him onto his back and kiss his way down that broad chest, but that would have to wait for some other time, because Peter was reaching for him. Neal caught a glimpse of shiny lips and a hint of tongue and then Peter was on him, a little clumsy but eager, and careful enough that Neal didn't have to worry about teeth. Couldn't worry about anything. God, it had been too long!

Neal shut his eyes and concentrated on keeping it together as long as he could, but the wet sounds of Peter blowing him were maybe the single sexiest thing he'd ever heard, and every time Peter leaned in to lower his head, Neal's pants tugged taut across his inner thighs, brushed his balls like a caress. A dark, insistent heat gathered low in his belly. He tried to widen his knees, but his pants were in the way, the constraint ramping up his arousal even further. He gripped Peter's shoulder, needing something to hang onto.

There was a muffled exclamation from across the room, and Neal's eyes flew open. It took him a moment to focus on Elizabeth, still standing by the French doors with the pale morning sky behind her. She was watching transfixed, her eyes huge and dark, her hand pressed to her mouth.

Neal bit his lip, hoping like hell she really was okay with this, because there was no way he could stop now, he _needed_ this from Peter. Then she met his eye and smiled, small but real, and slid her hand to press at the front of her jeans, between her legs. The heat in Neal's belly twisted and sparked, making him curse out loud.

Peter clasped Neal's thighs, fingers digging in, lips sliding up and down Neal's cock, and a breathless moan escaped Neal. He couldn't last much longer, had no defenses against this relentless pleasure, against Peter, suddenly sexual and on his knees, giving himself to Neal, wanting Neal, maybe turned on from sucking Neal off. That thought, combined with a perfect, hot flick of tongue, was Neal's undoing. He gasped out a warning and came hard, shaking, spilling into Peter's mouth, the rush of sensation like falling from a great height.

Peter swallowed and slowed his movements, not stopping until Neal finally grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up for a deep, dirty kiss, Neal thrilling to the taste of himself in Peter's mouth.

Peter wrapped his arms around Neal, hugging him close. His cock was hard, his chest sweaty and flushed, and Neal wanted to be the one to get him off, but that wasn't the deal. He buried his face in the crook of Peter's neck for a moment, then pulled away, forcing a grin. "Wow! I never knew you had it in you, Peter."

"You keep underestimating me," said Peter, eyes crinkling, lips red and used. He looked over his shoulder, and Elizabeth came over.

She gave Neal a quick kiss on the cheek and pulled Peter up into her arms. "My turn."

Neal watched them move toward the bed together, Elizabeth kicking off her sneakers and shedding her shirt and jeans as they went. Neal tried not to feel bereft. Maybe he should give them some privacy and go shower. They collapsed onto the bed in a tangled embrace, and Neal was just summoning the energy to stand up and leave them to it when Elizabeth looked across at him.

"You can join us," she said softly. "I mean, if you want to. No pressure."

Neal took a few steps forward. "Are you sure?"

"Caffrey," said Peter, "get over here."

Neal laughed and stripped out of his clothes, and by the time he got there, Elizabeth's leg was twined around Peter's waist, and Peter was thrusting into her. He paused long enough to give Neal a quick kiss, and then they went back to it. Neal stretched out beside them on the shifting mattress, and Elizabeth reached over and slid her fingers into his hair, smiling. "Hey."

"Hey." Neal turned his head to kiss her wrist, then stroked down her side, appreciating the soft skin and generous curves moving in time with Peter's body, the dizzying contrasts of the two of them.

When he got to her waist, she twitched and batted his hand away. "Ticklish. Stop it."

Peter cupped her breast, rubbed his thumb across her tightened nipple, stealing her attention, making her squirm and arch up into him. Neal wondered if he'd ever get a chance to do that, if this could become something between the three of them. Regardless, he was here, a welcome witness—warm, satisfied and included. He lay on his side and watched them, idly rubbing Peter's ankle with his toes.

"Jesus, El," said Peter, pressing his face to her hair. "I can't—"

"Hang in there, baby," Elizabeth murmured. "We've got company."

Neal resisted the urge to nuzzle her shoulder. "Please, don't hold back on my account."

Peter rolled his hips and Elizabeth swore and threw her head back, and when he did it again and again, she cried out, clutching at him and trembling in his arms, her hips moving restlessly as she came. Neal couldn't take his eyes off her.

Peter brushed a damp lock of hair from her forehead, kissed her there and murmured something Neal couldn't catch. She laughed and kissed him back, and their love glowed through them, in the sweetness and familiarity of their gestures. Neal ached with it—a good, healing ache.

"Home stretch," said Elizabeth, teasing Peter, who managed a few more thrusts before he stiffened and groaned, coming right there next to Neal, in Neal's bed, with Elizabeth.

Neal wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to lie there again without remembering this moment.

Peter dropped to the mattress on the far side of Elizabeth, sprawled half across her, and looked at Neal. "Enjoy the show?"

Neal nodded, unable to keep the grin from his face. No need to force it now.

Elizabeth laughed again and cupped Peter's cheek. "Okay?"

"Okay," Peter told her. He let his head drop to the pillow. "God, I need to sleep, though. I can't believe we stayed up all night."

"I can't believe you made a six-pack of beer last all night," said Neal, reaching across Elizabeth to poke him in the side.

Peter snorted and caught his hand and seemed to decide to keep it. Neal wasn't complaining. He lay there, his arm drawn across Elizabeth's waist, contemplating his situation. Elizabeth sighed, apparently content, and Peter turned onto his side and bunched the pillow up under his head, all without letting go of Neal.

Neal almost laughed. He should have known it would go like this. "Peter," he said. "Full disclosure."

"Mmm?" Peter got up on one elbow and looked at him. "What?"

Neal gave him his best innocent look. "I might have been wrong about not being ready for serious. Especially if Elizabeth's part of the deal."

Elizabeth turned her smile on him, pleased and bright as morning. "Really?"

"Whenever you're ready, Sundance," said Peter, easily.

Neal climbed over Elizabeth and straddled Peter, looking down at him with satisfaction. "I'm ready."

Peter returned the look, but with suspicion. "You're sure it's not the endorphins talking?"

Neal shook his head and bent to kiss him, putting everything he was feeling into it—all the desire and certainty, and Peter met passion with passion, promise with promise. They kissed until they were both breathless, and Elizabeth was laughing at them and kissing Peter's shoulder.

"Okay," said Peter, at last. "Okay, I believe you. Can I sleep now? Okay." He pulled Neal down to his other side, they all lay dozing together, sated and smiling, as the morning lengthened into day.


End file.
